


Nevermore

by Valpur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bloodplay, Confrontations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: And in the end they were alone. Hawke and Anders, apostates on the run in a land set ablaze by an unavoidable conflict they helped break out.There was still love between them – scarred and living, an open wound. The shadow of words left unsaid.Yet.The chain of silences that trapped them tinkled at every step, heavier and heavier, and in the end it broke.





	

It was there, suspended between them

There had been no time to discuss it in the days after their escape from Kirkwall – not with Fenris looking at him as if he was a leper, not with Aveline’s hard eyes stuck on him or Varric orbiting around Hawke like an overprotective bulldog.

They all thought Hawke needed protection and Anders, from the depths of his despair, couldn’t blame them.

It took weeks before they had the time and silence to face the truth.

Solitude wrapped them like a shadow when, one by one, all their companions left to their own lives – or to create a brand new one.

Varric was the only one to offer him his hand.

“Hey, Blondie. Can I talk to the other one?”

Anders almost smiled.

“He can hear you, there’s no need to –“

The dwarf’s big hand grabed his throat – the soft, ruthless hand of a writer and an archer.

“Listen, spirit, I don’t give a damn about your motives or battles or any other bullshit. Hurt Hawke, put him in danger and I swear I’ll rip the Fade apart to find you and kick your ass. Understood?”

Justice emerged to the surface and Anders didn't even try to stop him. He felt the tension, the shiver before the reaction to a menace. Varric’s squared face glowed blue in his – _their_ – eyes.

“ _Do you think I’d allow it to happen?”_

“I think lots of bad things, y’know? And Blondie, here, was – fuck, he _is_ my friend. It’s not for me to punch him for what he did but… well, nevermind. I’m going back to Kirkwall and I’ll lie with unshaking convinction to keep you safe, but I need you to swear you won’t make a mess”.

Justice hesitated. Was it a threat? A danger? Anders gripped the shining blue coils of spirit and Fade wrapping his soul to communicate with him, he shook him to tell him with all his strenght that no, there was nothing to worry about, that was just Varric, their friend Varric, and he was scared.

And then Justice nodded.

“ _They’re my humans. I’ll kill whoever tries to touch them, and nobody will as long as I’m with them”_.

Varric left him with a sigh.

“That’s what worries me”, he whispered.

Anders got his mind back, the neverending, far murmor of the spirit lost in his coscience.

“Fine, I’ll have to take your word for it and.. wait, Blondie, is that you again?”

“I told you, it’s not like we’re switching and you have one or the other, it’s… oh, I mean, you got it, Varric. For what it’s worth – not much, I fear – you have my word too. I’ll be dead before I’ll let anything happen to Hawke. His life is way more valuable than mine”.

“… and this too worries me: I think he’d say the same. You’re an odd couple, you two; I don’t know when I’ll be able to forgive you, but all in all I’m glad you’re still alive, Anders”.

It was weird hearing Varric calling him by his name. They shook hands, words swallowed and eyes cast down to hide anger and regret. The wounded echo of a true friendship lingered between them.

And in the end they were alone. Hawke and Anders, apostates on the run in a land set ablaze by an unavoidable conflict they helped break out.

There was still love between them – scarred and living, an open wound. The shadow of words left unsaid.

 _Yet_.

The chain of silences that trapped them tinkled at every step, heavier and heavier, and in the end it broke.

The cave was so damp it weakened the small stubborn fire burning on the ground among their few possessions. Every few minutes Hawke rekindled it with a tired gesture of his hand as magic shoot out from his fingers.

Anders sat in silence on the other end of the fire, unable to take his eyes off him.

When he first met Hawke he’d been just a boy, a refugee with grief hidden in his eyes and his sleeves rolled up to gave what little was left of his family a place in the world. It had been almost ten years and of that family only Carver was left, angry, headstrong, aloof. Lost, maybe. Now there were thin wrinkles at the corner of Hawke’s eyes and between his eyebrows, he laughed less and thought more.

And yet he was there, on the run with him.

Anders didn’t deserve it.

A sigh escaped from his lips.

“You’re doing it again”. The low voice rumbled in the cave and Anders winced as Hawke raised his head and pinned him down with his golden eyes. “You’re thinking you’re not worth it. That I should have killed you or left you”.

Anders laughed mirthlessly.

“As always you can read my mind. You are…”

“ _Fuck off_ , Anders!” A thunder that raged around the damp rock walls, so sudden Justice woke and was present again in the blink of an eye. Hawke gritted his teeth at the sharp blue glow that crackled at Anders’ wrists and on his cheekbones, and pointed at him.

“No, this is between me and him. Stay out of it, alright? For… for what it’s possible. Please”.

Anders swallowed and closed his eyes.

_What’s happening?_

_We have something to discuss, and if we don’t it-it may… I don’t even wan to think about it._

_You need me._

_Not now. Hawke’s right, he’s to talk to me. He’ll likely scream and probably hit me but it’s alright. Don’t…_

_You want me not to interfere._

_Yes. I know it’s hard for you but we need our time._

_I can’t understand._

_I know, Justice. I’m not asking you to understand, but to accept. Do it for me._

After a brief silence Justice subsided. When Anders opened his eyes Hawke was still staring at him. He wished he could sense hatred or bitterness in his gaze. It would have made things easier.

He sighed and stood up, brushing mud and dead leaves from his travel-worn tunic.

“Come on, spit it out. I deserve it, and besides – I told you – there’s nothing I haven’t-“  
“Told yourself already? Oh but that’s not the point, Anders! Too easy to butcher yourself to convince the worst is over, to believe you’ve done your penance”. He stiffly stepped forward, climbed over the fire in a cloud of sparkles and stood in front of him. “Now you’ll hear it all from my voice. I need you to understand how much you hurt me”.

Anders clenched his fists.

“Do you think I don’t know it already?” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“You betrayed my trust! You lied, you- _you spat on my love_!” Hawke was yelling but the pain in his voice was unbearable, the same pain that made his eyes glisten, his hand clutching his chest as if to rip out his heart to stop it from hurting.

He was right. Anders did all those things, and hearing them from Hawke – not the Champion nor the hero, now, just a sad, tired man – was worse than torture. Anders lowered his eyes.

“When I say you should have killed me it’s only the truth. I…”

A leather and metal clad hand grabbed him by the front of his coat and shook him so hard his teeth chattered.

“Again the easier way out, and I’ve never believed in shortcuts”. He looked him in the eyes with all of his contempt. “You will live, Anders. You will live and learn to put the pieces back together. I command you”.

Even like this, even with despair descending on him in heavy, suffocating folds, Hawke’s growl of pure authority made his knees weak.

Hawke shook him once more and pulled him closer.

“No more lies. No more tricks. Swear it!”

“Would it matter?”

“I’m not joking! You have a trust to rebuild: is it worth so little? _Am I_ worth so little?”

It was a cruel slap. Spot on.

“How… How can you… Fuck, Hawke, you know how much I love you!”

“So how could you do this _to me_?”

He screamed the last words in an unsufferable pain. Hawke slammed him against the rocks and lifted him up.

“It was _my_ fight too… have you forgotten who I am? The apostate son of an apostate. I was born on the run and my father died because…”

“You were born free, Hawke! You never knew the chains of the Circle, you never had to…”

He left him so abruptly Anders swayed and collapsed against the wall. He barely had the time to lean forward before the punch hit him full on the face and sent him roll on his side against the stones.

For a split second, in the explosion of physical suffering and blood spraying from his broken lips, a creepy blue sparkle glowed.

_No no no please let-let us…_

_You’re in pain._

_It’s all for good._

“I saw my sister die because we had to flee – damn it, I’ve been doing this for my entire life and you dare diminishing my grief? You-you are…”

Another punch. Anders spat blood and saw it charge against him.

A part of his mind craved for it, waited with desperate anticipation for the impact of bones on bones, skin breaking and blood flowing.

It didn’t came. Hawke’s hand hit the rocks and crumbled them.

Hawke was furious. He’d never seen him like this, burning with years of pain triggered by his own betrayal and now exploding in his teary, red rimmed eyes.

“It was my fight too”, he said softly shaking his head. He was close and trembling as he let his arm fall. “ _Our_ fight”.

Anders massaged his jaw – fuck, that hurt – and could barely speak.

“You know why I did what I did. I feared you could have stopped me or worse helped me. I wanted you to be innocent, Hawke”.

In his eyes, darkened by fury – and love, and it hurt way more than the bruises Anders felt blossoming on his skin – shone tears he never dared to shed.

“You’re a fool if you think I wouldn’t die for you, Anders”.

“ _No!_ ”

A cry, hands raising to push him – and oh, how strong was the temptation to bury his face in his chest instead of thrusting him away. Anders was panting, quick, hoarse breaths tasting like blood.

“Can’t you see? It’s not worth it – _I’m_ not worth it! I-I never wanted anyone to sacrifice for me…”

Hawke’s fingers were back on him, fists clenching the fabric of his tunic, pulling him up.

“I sacrificed everything for you. I didn’t even think twice and I would do it again a million times because I love you, Anders”, and his voice was the growl of a wounded, enraged animal, his face pale. “I can’t believe it means so little to you…”

Every last trace of dignity left Anders. Justice tried to object when he fell on his knees – grit digging into his flesh, skin bruising – in front of Hawke. With his hands in his lap and his mouth full of the iron and salt of blood and tears – he didn’t even realize he was crying – he looked up at him.

Even with his shoulder bent by exhaustion and his face drawn Hawke looked imposing.

“Hawke, you mean the world to me, now more than ever. Now that I’ve made my move, that I have to witness the consequences of my crusade… I only have you. Can you blame me if I feel unworthy of the bravest, strongest man I have ever…”

The grip on his wrists was so hard and sudden his words choked in his throat. Hawke hauled him to his feet as if he had no weight and Anders found himself in the safest place in the world: in his lover’s arms.

But this time it was different. Mingled with love was possessiveness. There were anger and pain and hope, a knotted tie as inextricable as Anders was from Justice.

Hawke pressed his lips on Anders’, swollen and broke, and the wound bled more, a red, thick trail on their tongues.

Anders clutched Hawke’s chest, the metal edges of the armor bruising his hands, fur soft against his fingers, and let him strip him of what was left of voice and rebellion.

Blood ran faster in every limb, a deep rolling from his heart that turned in a quiet moaning in his throat. Hawke was rocking against him and the kiss burned and hurt – and it was right. He pressed against him and spread Anders’ legs with a deep thrust of his pelvis.

Anders felt something roar inside his head.

_I want him. We want him, you’re screaming it to me since he first touched you._

_Yes. Yes, you’re right, come with me._

_You said it was between the two of you._

_Justice, I…_

_I’ll be there. I always am, but he wants_ you _now._

A blue flash lit in the bottom of his soul and trailed away under the crimson wave of passion.

Hawke was hard against him, raving hands kneading his hips, holding him close. Anders tried to talk and failed: Hawke captured his mouth again in a kiss that was almost a bite. More blood from his broken lip – Anders felt it drip down his chin and along his neck, hot and sticky.

Hawke noticed it too. He left him roughly and grabbed the back of his neck, bending it backwards. Anders gasped, eyes lost in the darkness of the roof, but as soon as Hawke’s tongue ran down his throat, his mouth following the path of the drop of blood, drinking it, he lost all his ability to think. Hawke licked him painfully slow, one hand pulling his hair, the other digging under his tunic, searching and finding a way to his skin.

Upwards the pulsing of the vein on his neck and to his chin, Hawke’s mouth closed on his lips swollen from the punch and the kisses, sucking at the wound. Suddenly the grip in his hair turned into a thrust that pulled him forward. Behind him for a second there wasn’t the rough wall anymore, only Hawke’s arms holding him so tight his spine crackled.

“Nevermore”, he whispered on his mouth before violently closing it again. Anders tried to squirm but he submitted to the touch ot Hawke’s tongue on his, so delicate compared to the furious kiss, to the hands that grabbed his pants and slid them down. Hawke pulled back and gritted his teeth.

“Nevermore, Anders. No more lies. No… no more…”

“No more”, panted Anders. Breathless, blinded by anguish and desire, he moved Hawke’s hand – leather was rough on his skin – to the erection trying to escape from his pants.

Hawke grabbed him through the fabric, leather and metal and the knowledge that the desire thad bound them, right now, was made of pain, too – pain and atonement, guilt and regret in a neverending cycle.

Anders held back a small moan when Hawke – his wrist still in his fist – moved his hand down, the pressure rough and urgent. In the dancing shadows cast by the flickering light his eyes were golden sparkles, their eyes so close their lashes intertwined.

A new red pearl bloomed on his split lip and again Hawke licked it away – Anders thought he could see the red spot on the tip of his tongue. They parted for a moment, foreheads touching.

Hawke bit his lip and shook his head.

“Maker’s balls, Anders, how could you have doubted?”

He moved the hand from his hip and took off his glove with his teeth, spitting it on the floor. That same hand dropped his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Doubt me. My love, my support...”

Anders looked for an answer, but when Hawke’s warm hand slipped inside his pants and grabbed his cock he could only groan.

“Nevermore, I beg you. Anders, I beg you – promise me…”

He kissed him again, the desperate tone clashing with the anger in his lips, with the beard scratching his skin. Hawke’s fist moved up to the wet head of his cock and Anders moaned.

“I swear”, he gasped.

He feared, somewhere deep down his conscience, that he only answered what Hawke wanted him to say, but the sudden blue light erased that doubt.

Justice _never_ promised in vain.

“Yeah, I swear it”, and this time every particle of his being screamed it – absolute sincerity in his urgent whisper.

Hawke snarled something, maybe his name, and brusquely turned him against the wall. Under his palms the stones were cold and damp, but Anders didn’t care. He heard when Hawke spat in his palm and his knees gave way when a wet caress descended down his ass, slick fingers opening him.

Anders opened his mouth in a silent scream when Hawke opened him wider – too much, too fast, but his body answered eagerly where his mind asked for more time. Leaning against the rocks he breathed in the smell of moss and blood and sweat – and Hawke’s, something that was only his, wild and sweet, as familiar as bread but, in that moment, as dangerous as the scent of a predator.

The blunt tip pressed against him slowly, harder with every heartbeat, with every ragged snarl breathed in his ear, and Anders felt self control dissolve.

Open, hungry, he pushed back and yelled loud when, as surprised as him, Hawke entered deep.

“Fuck – did I hurt you?”

The tenderness in his voice brought tears to his eyes.

“Y-Yes…”

“Do you want me to stop?”  
“No – don’t stop, Hawke, I… please, don’t stop”.

An hesitation and then the burning sensation was back, growing as Hawke pulled back and, slow and steady, penetrated ahim gain. The slap reverberated up his spine and the sound filled the cave with Anders groan.

Too much and too fast? Sure. And it hurt, but he needed it. At every thrust of Hawke’s hips pain grew higher and deeper – so deep it started to change.

Anders couldn’t say when it turned into pleasure, when the ring of fire around Hawke’s cock swallowed every other sensation. He moved with him, rocking his ass against his hips.

Barely aware of anything but Hawke’s hands on his waist, of his breath on his neck and the cock thrusting inside him, Anders moved his hand.

His gasps turned into a louder groan when he slowly closed his fist around his pulsating erection, and it was like his chest caught fire.

He followed Hawke’s rythm, palm slick with his own fluids and need coiling in his guts with every held breath.

“You deserve this”, Hawke grunted in his ear.

“W-What?”

“You deserve to live with your guilt. To atone every day”, and he balled the dirty mass of his blonde hair in his fist, pulling his head back and exposing his bare throat.

“You deserve”, teeth sank into his skin, a maddening pulsation adding to the wild one rising from his lower belly. “You deserve…”

Hawke’s voice broke in a dry sob.

“To have hope. To be happy”.

Anders bit his lip and made it bleed again but didn’t stop. Hawke didn’t either.

“You deserve forgiveness”.

It was too much for Anders. Tears overflowed from his lashes as Hawke moved inside him, filling him.

Hawke’s voice was sweet but the hand grasping his hair still ruthless, his body still slamming against his ass.

“Understood?” He thrust so hard it hurt again, sending him against the rocks, and Anders moaned for the mixture of pleasure and suffering shaking his every nerve.

“Y-Yes”. His hand faltered on his warm cock, shocks of arousal charging under his fingers, under his skin.

Hawke pulled him closer and Anders winced as the edges of the armor dug into his flesh.

More bruises – and he wanted even more.

“I can’t hear you”. Hawke’s voice was weak too, the rythm more erratic now.

Anders clenched his fist harder and rubbed without daring to breathe, desire and atonement filling every crack of his being.

He closed his eyes and sunk into the vortex of shadow and pleasure gaping at his feet, mouth open and cheek pressed against the wall.

“Yes!”

He screamed – and the word turned into a beastly cry when tension broke. Orgasm came violently, a blind force tightening and emptying him of everything human, making him a wailing animal living only in the last brutal thrusts of Hawke’s cock.

As the last hot, thick spill dripped from his fingers Hawke spasmed against his flesh. He came screaming his name and Anders couldn't stifle a sob for all the desperate love in that sound.

Once more, and Hawke fell on him, arms circling his waist in a warm embrace.

Anders surrendered against him – even if his legs trembled, even if the armor was cold and sharp, and took his hands.

Tears were silently streaming down his cheeks. Hawke made him turn in his arms, smoothed his tunic with gentle hands. He shook his head and, when he lifted his eyes, his hands cupped his face as if it was something precious and beautiful.

When his forehead touched Anders’ he realized he was crying too. Nothing spectacular, just a single tear leaving his long, dark lashes and going lost in his beard.

“You deserve forgiveness, Anders. You deserve to be loved. Will you let me? Even… even if I punched you?”

The bruised lip didn’t bleed anymore. It hurt, and Anders knew the halo of suffering from his cheekbone to his jaw was going black and blue.

It didn’t matter anymore.

He’d deserved that, too. And yet, despite everything he had done, there was this wonderful man, all heart and sardonic grins thrown in the very face of death, and he wanted him. Hawke smiled – he almost missed it in the light of the dying flames, but he felt it.

“I’ll never understand you, Hawke. I told you so many times”. He brushed the sharp line of his cheekbone and, sniffling, smiled back. “But I will let you – no, I beg you: do it. Love me because I need it. And every day I’ll be worth of your forgiveness and your trust”.

“I won’t say it’s gonna be a short journey, Anders”.

“I know. And the road will be uphill, bumpy and with a couple of encounters with bandits because come on, it would be boring otherwise. But we’ll be together, and that’s all I want”.

Hawke held him close and kissed him – a sweet, slow kiss, and under that touch Anders was himself again. The last thing he saw before giving in to that unexpected peace was, in the darkness at the entrance of the cave, a sparkle of light.

Not Justice – now far and silent.

Fireflies. Just fireflies, living stars swarming in the forest around them.

_Nevermore._

It was going to hurt every day. It would chew his heart and broke his mind.

But he had Hawke, and whatever future was waiting for them they were going to get it – together.

 


End file.
